


Love Bomb

by abrandnewheart



Category: Lush Cosmetics - Fandom
Genre: Character Death, Crackfic taken seriously, Mutual Pining, Other, Pining, Second person POV, inter-product romance, marshmallow world had a moment of thinking that bath bombs were superior to every other product, no beta we die like bath bombs, pov: you are the marshmallow world bomb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 23:15:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29642190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abrandnewheart/pseuds/abrandnewheart
Summary: You are quite content in your own world of marshmallowiness, thank you very much.Or at least, you think you are. Everything changes on the day a fresh batch of American Cream shower gels appear in the store.
Relationships: American Cream/Marshmallow World
Comments: 21
Kudos: 15





	Love Bomb

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry but the Lush server encouraged me.

It’s an odd thing, being a bath bomb. Your name is Marshmallow World, your batch number is 1A-5782, and you were bomb number 27 produced of that batch. You live in a Lush Cosmetics store, surrounded by your bomb brethren. To your left, there’s a basket of Intergalactic bombs. You’re not keen on that part of the family; they tend to be in-your face and their colours are so garish. To your right are the Butterball siblings. They’re smaller than you are, but they’re plain in colour, so they let you do your thing and their scent doesn’t overpower yours. They’re part of the Mainline Family that you get on with. 

There are other members of the family; but you don’t see them so often. Mostly because it’s difficult to physically see them from where you are; but sometimes the Human children leave one of your Comforter or Groovy cousins on your display. It’s always nice to see them, but it might be nice to see them more often. 

The other members of the Lush ‘family’ are more elusive. The Shower Bombs and the Bubble Bars are perhaps your closest relatives, but even they are more like distant cousins. You get along quite well with the Bubble Bar side of the family, all things considered, but despite your best efforts and your similar foaminess, you have never been quite able to comprehend the Shower Bombs. Your Comforter cousins have tried their very best to help you understand; they are the _closest_ relatives to the Comforter Shower Bomb, after all, but despite everything there is a fundamental difference you cannot overcome. This difference is only exacerbated with the more distant family members; how are you supposed to understand the Henna Blocks? How are you supposed to understand the Facial Cleansers?

You are quite content in your own world of marshmallowiness, thank you very much. 

Or at least, you think you are. Everything changes on the day a fresh batch of American Cream shower gels appear in the store. 

You see the soft pink from across the store. What was in that display slot before, you’re not quite sure. Perhaps it was one of the uppity Limited Edition Seasonal bitches. But now, it’s petal soft pink hues and crisp standard-branding black labels. Their plastic bottles are sleek and spotless. 

You wonder what they smell like. They look like they could work well with you, but it’s impossible to tell from here. 

You get the feeling one of the American Cream gels is watching you. You watch back. 

You’re not sure how many days pass in this way. You are handled more than once, and you worry your chance to meet Ms American Cream will slip away, lost forever as soon as you leave the store. You’re not quite sure what happens when you leave the store. The Bath Bomb Elders speak of it only in hushed whispers. You’ve heard rumours that you get put into water and left to disintegrate for Human desires, but that seems so barbaric that you can’t bring yourself to believe it. 

In either case, you want to meet Ms American Cream before one of you has to leave, to do whatever kind of unknown tasks await you. 

Your opportunity comes late one September night. You had been carelessly knocked to the floor during the daytime. It shook you a little, knocked off some of your surface dust, but you did not crack. You are made of tougher stuff than this. You will not falter so easily.

With all of your determination, you rolled yourself firmly away from the Human and underneath the display. When the Humans have gone, you decide, you will roll over to the Shower Gel display. Your American Cream girl might not want to see you, but at least you’ll have had the opportunity to see her up close. Perhaps you’ll even be able to get a whiff of her supposedly milkshakey scent -- you heard one of the Staff Humans talking about her earlier, right in front of you. 

This opportunity will only come once, so you must be careful. 

When the store is still, and lit only by the neon glow of the exit sign and the fluorescent mall lighting outside the store, you make your move. You roll across the floor. The noise is deafening in the silence and you can _feel_ the metaphorical gasp of air that every product in the store takes. 

You come to a stop in front of the shower gel stand. You have a small chip in your side from where you crashed into a display table, but it’s only a flesh wound. 

You watch your American Cream darling, and you wait.

You see her shuffle towards the edge of the shelf. 

You watch as she falls off the shelf and hits the countertop below with a smack. You hear her pristine black lid hit the ground somewhere near you.

You feel her gel encompass you, and for a moment, everything is beautiful. She smells like vanilla and strawberry and something undeniably _her._ Your colours are beautiful together. You think, for a moment, that this could be a magnificent pairing. 

But then it begins. It’s like fire, but cold. It stings. You can hear the roaring of fizzing and she is apologising, she is trying so hard to get away from you, but half of her body is still in her bottle and it’s leaking with long _drip, drip, drips_ right on top of you. 

Is this how Bath Bombs die? Torn apart by their own bodies as soon as liquid is added?

Perhaps the Elders were right. 

At least with her body surrounding you, none of your siblings can hear you scream. 

At least you get to disintegrate having known what an all-encompassing love feels like. 

**Author's Note:**

> If, for some reason, you enjoyed this - I promise my other fics are actually serious. And if, for some reason, you want to follow me on twitter, you can do that [here.](https://twitter.com/abrandnewheart)


End file.
